Risks We Take
by Herecomesdifferent
Summary: (Post-Reichenbach, pre-reunion) Sherlock is thinking about John. He misses him. Will he ever find a way to outsmart Moriarty's men an finally come home?
1. Chapter 1

It's raining again. Not that it isn't common. But it's different. Instead of being simply rain, it's cold. Windy. Dreary.

Disconsolate.

That's all it's been since I Had to fake my suicide. I've missed John. Now Molly, she's helped me, but it's not the same. I'm lost without my blogger. And I would never say it to his face.

I'm doing it.

I'm going to the flat. But not to see John; I can't see him now, not yet. I still have to watch for the snipers, so it'll be more dangerous.

"You should wait," Molly warned. "Catch a sniper or two. Be a lot safer."

"I'm not looking for safe, Molly. If I was, I would have really killed myself on that rooftop."

I stood at the window of the small flat she was willing to let me stay at, gathering my thoughts. At least she doesn't bother me. She just watches, for what should be the better part of twenty minutes, until I speak.

"I'm going."

"What? Sh-Sherlock, you can't possibly mean the-"

"Yes. To get some things I will need to go home permanently."

"What on this earth could _possibly_ so important that you- you..."

I let her finish.

"...That you nearly have to commit suicide to get it?"

"I need my computer. It has information on it that I cannot continue without," I respond.

Lie.

"Is that it? I thought you had put all your files onto that jump drive you took from John."

"If you were listening, you would have remembered that I did not get everything, only the legal documents. There was no need for the others then."

Not a lie.

"Then let me help; I can... Lookout or something."

"Oh Molly, that couldn't possibly be any more stupid! If I happen to be killed or somehow incapacitated, I would need you to make sure everything was in order. It IS your work, anyway, so you sould be able to handle it."

She just stood there, almost dumbfounded, not sure exactly what to reply.

_Molly, hurry up. I have too much work to do to wait for you to think about what to say._

"That's... That's the problem."

"What?"

"I wouldn't be able to handle it. I mean, look at John! Army doctor, people have died in his arms. Me-"

"You work with dead cavavers. What would be the difference?"

She replied, in a barely audible whisper: "I didn't love the others..."


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: Wow I haven't done this Yet. Hey guys, I'm really sorry for not doing this earlier. I have a legitimate excuse though. Blame the teachers! Haha no. But you get my point. Busy with school, Blah blah blah... Grades, blah blah blah... Parents. You get my point. Anyway I have a feeling you don't want to read me rambling a lot, So on with the story!**

Oh yeah and I totally took this in a different direction than I expected. It Went from a form of JohnLock To... Well how about you just read it for yourself? Please review! I really do appreciate it.

~~As you all know, Sherlock is not mine, Nor are any of the other characters. ~~

As I swept through London, I saw to it that no one (reporter or otherwise) saw me. Word could get back to John very quickly, so I could not risk being seen.

Considering the roundabout trip, it took about an hour to reach my flat, rather than the usual 15 minutes when I would take a cab. Once or twice I thought I saw John. Maybe me being unsure had to do with what Molly just told me. Why did I still care? I can't possibly love her; love is an emotional defect found on the losing side. I should file said predicament away in my mind so I can think about it later.

When I get there it's about 2:30 in the afternoon. John should still be at the office at least until seven. I have time.

I walk up the side street to my flat, but then realized that my keys are in the coat that I jumped with. It was in the morgue with my fake body. Why did I get blood on it? Ugh. The first floor window is unlocked, but Mrs. Hudson has been gone since yesterday. As I tried to worm my way in I am quite thankful that I do not eat as much as John would like me to. I go in headfirst and end up falling on my behind. "I'm alright!" I shout, before I realize that I speak to no one. At least no one answers. Almost so no one has the chance to, I immediately get up and go upstairs to try to unlock the door to my flat. It takes about two minutes with a hairpin I got from Molly's bathroom. Simple. The hard part is finding my computer is this-

wait, what?

I was gone for two months and now the flat already looks like a rubbish bin?

Oh well if John likes it this way, then so be it.

As I rifled through the rubbish on my desk, It doesn't take long to find my laptop. Now for something else in my room. I'm not sure why, but I have a feeling there's something I might be able to use.

Wow, it really is getting cold here. Maybe I should get a jacket or something... Shoot, all I have is my Belstaff. I wonder if maybe...

No. I will not degrade myself by wearing John's clothing. But then again, it could never hurt. Since there are no people to talk, I guess I would be able to without a problem from others.

_When did I begin caring what other people thought? _

I walk over into his bedroom, straight to his closet, and begin rifling through his clothes to look for anything that would fit me when I see it. His cream-colored jumper. It looked like it could fit me so I grabbed it and turn on my heels to see a face proclaiming that two months has been two months too long.

"Sherlock..."


	3. Chapter 3

"Sherlock..."

John's face was one I have not yet seen. Hurt, joy, confusion, and anger. He stood in the doorframe to his room, wearing his black leather coat and holding a few bags of groceries that fell to the floor, along with his cane. He looks tired. Much more than ever before. I began to get worried, but then I remebered that I dont worry about people.

Except John.

I gave him a smile. "Hello john. How are you doing now? Hope you've been doing well in my absence... Although it doesnt look quite like you have." He was still shocked. Then his face took on a peculiar look as he looked at my chest. The jacket! "Oh, yes, The jacket. I was getting cold, and, well, mine is in the morgue so I thought you wouldn't ming if I..."

I started walking towards him.

"If I borrowed one of yours." We were now inches apart. He was still staring at me. His face was almost unbearable to see. Then, from what seemed to be out of nowhere, his fist came flying up toward me.

He punched me in the face.

"Sherlock... Where the bloody hell have you been?" He yelled at me. "Why havent you tried to call me or contact me? Do you have any idea..."

"Hold on a second." I pulled my pistol out of my pants. Through watery eyes and a bloody nose, I turned around and shot the hitman that was seconds from killing John from across the street through the flat window. Then I looked back at Iohn. He had no idea what was going on.

"Thats why i havnt called you."

That's it. I did it. I can come home.

"But now I can, thanks to you. That was quite convenient. Who knows how long it'd would have been had I stayed away like I should have."

John's face seemed to grow angrier and angrier, then all at once, it melted as he threw his arms around me.

After a few seconds, I felt a small wet spot grow on my shirt near my shoulder. Crying. I wrapped my arms around him. After a while, he began to shake a little. We staved like that for what could have been an eternity. Once he was through, I looked at him again. Relief. "Come, John. I'll make you a cuppa. You. Sit."

He complied.

Once we both were sitting down in our respective chairs, tea in hand, I began my story. The story of how I, Sherlock Holmes, faked my death.


End file.
